


Hemingway

by SylvanFreckles



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is Well Read, Gen, Humor, I promise the Moby Dick part makes sense at the end, Moby Dick References, No Season 15 Spoilers, Sam Winchester is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanFreckles/pseuds/SylvanFreckles
Summary: Sam and Dean are captured by a demon. The demon monologues. Dean makes Dick jokes.(Discarded post for Wumptober 2019)





	Hemingway

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally my post for day 25 of Whumptober but I thought it was too silly, so I'm posting it separately because...well, because it's silly.
> 
> I haven't actually watched any of Season 15 yet, so this is in that nebulous fanfiction season when everyone is alive and no one hates anyone else. No spoilers for anything, not even for the actual chapter of Wumptober.

It was an all too familiar situation for Sam Winchester, unfortunately. Knocked unconscious, stripped of his weapons, and tied to a chair in an empty warehouse with his brother tied in the chair next to him.

“Dean!” Sam hissed. Dean's head remained lolled forward on his chest, so Sam took advantage of the slight slack in the ropes to kick his brother's foot.

“Whuzzat?” Dean's head jerked up and he snorted back half a snore. “This isn't the diner.”

“I think someone drugged our food. Again,” Sam rolled his eyes. They'd taken his shoes this time. He hated it when they took his shoes. It wasn't a very easy size to find.

“Aw, man!” Dean glared down at his bound arms and legs. “That waitress was totally gonna give me her number!”

“I think she was the demon,” Sam retorted. “Again.”

Dean blew out a sigh and let his head rest back. “How many times has this happened?”

“I lost count in Mississippi.”

“What, the librarian and the rugaru?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “The first time. The werewolf optometrist.”

“Oh,” Dean nodded sagely. “At least she was hot.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, what did you have in your pockets? Anything a demon could want?”

“The usual,” Dean tried to shrug, but the ropes around his arms were just that much too tight. “Did we stab anyone important recently?”

“We set the wendigo on fire, so I don't think so.”

Dean blew out a breath. “I hate waiting.”

Sam agreed, but he tried to keep up the facade of the more rational brother, at least until they knew what they were dealing with.

They didn't have long to wait, at least, as the door to the warehouse was kicked open and in strode their waitress from the diner. “Well, well, if it isn't the Winchester brothers,” she sneered. “You can call me Hemingway.”

Dean snorted.

Hemingway turned to face him with an angry scowl. “Is there something wrong with my name?”

“Oh, no,” Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. “I think it's a whale of a name.”

Sam stared at his brother, mind whirling. Was Dean trying to give him a clue?

Hemingway, at least, looked just as irritated. “We don't have time for this.”

“Yeah, you gotta get back to chasing Dick.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Hemingway demanded, advancing on Dean. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Oh, no, you're very scary,” Dean assured her, then broke into laughter the moment her back was turned. Hemingway gave a cry of rage and backhanded the older Winchester.

Dean took a long moment to work his jaw around and shake his head. “Hittin' the booze again?”

“Dean!” This really wasn't the time for his brother to be antagonizing their captor. “What do you want?” Sam asked Hemingway.

The demon seemed to be shaking with rage, one hand still raised. “I want your angel.”

“Oh, well, good luck,” Dean snarked. “He's kinda hard to pin down...you might call him a white whale.”

Sam kicked at Dean again. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, he'll come, when he hears this!” Hemingway snarled, leaping toward Dean to jab a knife in his leg. Dean hissed out a breath and a few colorful curses, twisting away when Hemingway tried to grab his hair.

“What, no 'from hell's heart I stab thee'?” Dean ground out. “I'm disappointed.”

Hemingway sneered and stalked over to Sam, tangling her free hand in his hair to yank his head back. “Seems like you're not as mouthy as your brother,” she commented.

“Look, what do you want with Cas?” Sam asked, trying to seem reasonable. He was almost sure he could get the ropes behind his back untied, if he had a moment.

“He killed my beloved.”

“Demons have beloveds?” Dean interjected. “I thought you lot just snuggled harpoons or something.”

“Shut up!” Hemingway shot a hand out and Dean's mouth slammed closed. Sam was almost grateful at that point. “You think you're the only ones allowed to love? Allowed to feel?”

Actually, Sam didn't. He'd never thought, after everything their father trained into them, that he'd actually have to consider a demon's _feelings_. But he wasn't going to share that with Hemingway, who looked to be building up steam to a good, old-fashioned monologue.

“Rory and I were going to rule the world,” Hemingway began, pacing back and forth in front of the brothers. “He ran a crossroads outside Denver, but Mr. Crowley had promised him that if his sales kept continuing he could move to the cushy spot off the Vegas strip. Think about it! All those souls desperate for the next big win, it would have been the high life.

“But your angel ruined it!” Hemingway spun around and jabbed one finger in Dean's chest, throwing a glare at Sam. “All Rory did was try to cut the brakes on one insignificant school bus, just to sacrifice a few dozen innocent children to invoke a land spirit to block a river so his contract could win a fishing tournament. Just one small thing, and your angel 'happens' to be passing through.”

Hemingway began pacing again. “The deal fell through and Crowley executed Rory as an example. And all because of your angel!”

Sam glanced over at his brother, just in time to catch Dean rolling his eyes. “Wouldn't it have been easier to just...give the guy the fish or something?”

“Silence!” Hemingway screeched, grabbing Sam by the shoulders. “I will have my revenge!”

Behind her, Dean had risen to his feet, ropes falling loose to the floor, face going white as he tugged the knife out of his thigh.

Sam was sure his brother would have said 'revenge this' had the demon not blocked his voice. Instead, Dean just thrust the knife into the demon's back until the point jutted out from her chest. Hemingway jolted, eyes sparking, and Dean caught her body before she could fall on Sam and just dropped her to the ground.

“Well, call me Ishmael,” Dean grinned, toeing at the demon's body. “I can't believe that worked.”

Sam just stared for a moment, white-hot fury building. “What the hell, Dean? That was Herman Melville!”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so, so, terribly sorry for this. Kind of. A little. Actually, I'm not sorry. Sorry about that.
> 
> Bonus trivia! The werewolf Sam mentions was originally going to be a dentist, until I remembered that was Garth's job before he became a hunter.


End file.
